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The devil child films we watched or thought
About the witching, the thrill more potent than the chill
The 13th generation since Benjamin Franklin rankling
Last onto the flag that said don't tread on me, dead feet
First ones to feel the firing of the Cold War's searing heat
The decade or so that was so special to us then
And so different from what came before or happened since
Was just another illusion. Every generation has their illusion.
Generation Y is so strange, everything is mixed together
I feel disoriented but not in any way that's clever
Maybe it's old bones shouting at the new ones with
Their breaks regrown; Maybe it is that simple, "Kiss
Me he said, then kill me," when it all felt wrong.
How can you blame him? His first romance was a song
A ballroom dance in a whirling throng, with mirrors
On the ceiling, what he was feeling then, and was it then, then?
In these days, subtleties don't belong. Get lost. You're one of
Hundreds of millions of bodies blogging, out jogging
Getting in shape for the raping and flogging of your talent
Thinking it amounts to something, counts as being strong.